


Forbidden Fruit

by CaoiloPotterWinchester



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Darry - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-07
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-29 06:30:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10848381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaoiloPotterWinchester/pseuds/CaoiloPotterWinchester
Summary: Would you believe me then if I told you that everything else you know about the boy who lived was almost true. Slowly Harry discovered he didn’t hate Draco as much as he thought, in fact the scary thing was Harry might not have hated him at all.How did hating the sleek blonde haired boy turn into this? When did hating Draco Malfoy turn into….into love?!





	1. White Ferret

How had it come to this? Harry asked himself as he lay awake and sweating on his bed. The furnace in the centre of the room lay dusty and unused. The early autumn air filled the room as the stained-glass window by Harry’s bed stood open.   
Harry looked around, all his class mates slept soundly, the breeze caressed the bed hangings. He sat up and held his stomach, the pain he felt was the reason he woke. Or at least that is what he told himself. However, he couldn’t help but think "Not another one". Last night Harry had dreamt his third dream about the object of his affection.  
He couldn’t allow himself to rehash such a thing. To allow them to wonder into his mind while he slept was one thing, to give them substance, to give them life in broad daylight was quite another.  
A while later when Harry and Ron walked down towards breakfast they met Hermione, who stood waiting by the Great halls large open doors.  
"Come on! I don’t want to miss post!" she ordered.  
Ron rolled his eyes. Hermione was still good quill pals with "THE" Victor Krum, and this annoyed Ron no end.  
"Who still writes to someone they met two years ago. I mean it’s not like they had much to talk about in the first place, is it?!" Ron asked Harry in a whisper as they followed Hermione.  
The only response Harry gave was a shrug. Usually Harry pitted Ron and was often sympathetic but today Harry was in too much pain to care.  
"I mean what do they find to talk about? I mean take you…."  
Suddenly Harry became aware that he would have to pay attention to the next thing Ron said.  
"You defeated you-know-who what? Six times! What’s he done? Flown around on a broom big deal, call the daily prophet!" Ranted Ron.  
"Maybe she just wants something a bit different. You know less predictable?!"  
For a second Harry thought Ron looked hurt.  
"Bet Krum isn’t afraid of stupid spiders". Muttered Ron.  
"What?" asked Harry as they both sat down on their bench.  
"Nothing!" said Ron sitting down and smiling an awkward shut-up smile.  
They were barely two months into their sixth year and already today would be the team’s first match, between Gryffindor V Hufflepuff. Though this match was just a friendly, a way to train, and therefor would not count towards the quidditch cup. Which was probably a good thing as Ron was yet to settle into the role of Keeper. He had not saved many quaffles in training and today’s game would give him extra practice. Today Ron seemed calm and collected though the letter Hermione received from Krum was probably distracting him.  
Harry still couldn’t quite get over the images his dream had left carved into his head. Without meaning to, Harry looked around towards the Slytherin table. Still no Draco he told himself. When he realised what he was doing, Harry looked away.  
"You’re not worried about getting ahead of Slytherin for the cup are you?" asked Ron before stuffing a full rasher into his mouth. Apparently, his mind finally starting to drift towards the game.  
"No!" Harry answered honestly even if he hoped Ron thought he was lying.

O0o0oo0o0o0

It was a blustery day on the pitch. The few spectators that had come to watch could barely see anything. Most gave up and went inside where it was warm. Coloured capes were the only distinctive feature. Even the players became confused, at one point McLaggen almost unseated Ginny.  
McLaggen tried to apologise but he couldn’t be heard over the sound of the wind.   
By the end of the game only Hermione, Dean and Luna remained in the bear Gryffindor stands. On the Hufflepuff side there had been a few more spectators. Three girls had been huddled together, Harry recognised one of them as the Hufflepuff seekers girlfriend. There had also been a group of boys who seemed to be betting packets of exploding snap cards on the outcome of the game.  
And yet Harry still felt the need to look for Malfoy.  
"You coming? It’s brass monkey’s out here!" Ron said as he rubbed his hands together.  
"I guess." Muttered Harry with disappointment in his voice.  
"Ah come on mate. It was only a friendly! There was no way they will beat us for the cup." Ron said encouragingly as he put an arm around his friend’s neck.  
Ron had obviously mistaken Harry’s mood to be about the game. Harry didn’t correct him, and also noticed that Ron and cheered up even though Hermione had received a letter from Krum and they had lost the match.  
"Hopefully we won’t have weather like this when we play against Slytherin. I want to see Malfoy’s face when we beat them." Added Ron.  
It was supper time before Harry caught sight of Malfoy. He sat at the Slytherin table as usual, but something did seem odd. At first Harry couldn’t tell what but then it became obvious. Malfoy sat quietly playing with his food. This was not like Malfoy at all, usually he would be the centre of attention at the Slytherin table.  
Harry looked at Draco’s face, what was it showing? Definitely not his usual cockiness. Worry maybe?! Was that worry. Was he paler then usual too? Was that even possible?  
"Didn’t he Harry?"  
"Um, what? sorry!"  
"McLaggen? He was all over the place!" Ron Repeated.  
"Yeah, sure". Said Harry only half listening.  
"I was there Ron!" Hermione said, not for the first time.   
Harry turned his attention back to the Slytherin table but Malfoy was gone.  
Thanks Ron Harry thought.  
Where was it exactly that Malfoy spent all of his spare time Harry wondered. It certainly was not with Goyle, Crabbe or Blaise who all stood there looking just as annoyed to notice Malfoy’s absence as Harry was.  
Within weeks of being back at Hogwarts for their sixth year, Harry noticed a change in Draco. Crabbe and Goyle no longer seemed to tail Draco around the castle these days. In fact, Harry rarely saw Draco outside of classes. Harry would hear the courtyard clock chime and by the time he looked up the hem of Draco’s cloak would disappear around the class room door and out of sight. Harry Began to wonder where it was Draco spent his time.


	2. Prophecy

That night a gust of wind rattled the stain glass windows. Leaving behind streaks of rain drops  
Sweat accumulated on Harry’s forehead, under his closed eyelids Harry’s eyes darted from side to side.   
Dark figures moved in a cold wet place. Harry was sure he heard a wolf howling. His heart increased at the same rate as his fear.  
He felt as if he was running. Suddenly he found himself standing in front of the weeping willow and then with one sound all of Harry’s fear drained away.  
Again came another bark, Sirius was there.  
Harry had no sooner seen Lupin the wolf and Sirius the dog when suddenly both changed form. Instead of seeing things as they had actually happened Harry, Ron, Hermione, Snape, Lupin, Peter and Sirius.   
The figure that emerged from the wimping willow was a moon-light white head of Draco Malfoy.  
At first Harry’s heart fluttered but dropped just as suddenly. Draco was not alone, the very sight of her enraged Harry.  
Draco turned to assist his aunt out of the hole under the comatose whomping willow. There now stood Bellatrix Lestrange. Her hair even weld in the wind.  
Suddenly Harry became aware that he was running towards his godfather’s murderer. Draco stepped between the pair.  
“You can’t hurt each other without hurting me! Don’t you get that?” Yelled Draco.  
Bellatrix smiled showing her crooked, chipped and stained teeth.  
Though his face showed his displeasure Harry lowered his wand.  
“The dark Lord will hear of this.” Bellatrix hissed.  
Her words were not a warning, but held the tone of someone who intended to hand deliver the news personally.  
Draco turned so he faced Bellatrix.  
“I would no sooner let you hurt Harry then you would hurt your precious Voldi” As he spoke Draco seemed to become taller, his chest puffed out.  
“Is that so?!” Bellatrix asked using her wand to move her hair out of her eyes.  
“Sorry coco.” She said as she pointed her wand at Draco’s chest.  
A flash of green light struck the young man and he fell backwords into Harry’s arms, cold, and as pale as his hair.  
Harry’s hand clasped Draco’s lifeless one.  
“Wake up, Draco wake up. I didn’t get to tell you!” Cried Harry.  
Harry sobbed over Draco’s dead body.  
He could hear Bellatrix move closer. “You really are pathetic. Mudblood, powerless Potter.”  
Harry knew what was coming, he closed his eyes, knowing that when he opened them again he would see the parents he lost so young and the boy he secretly loved.  
There was a flash of light yet when Harry opened his eyes he saw the familiar scarlet red and gold hangings covering the walls, emblazed with roaring lions.

His breath was shallow and beads of sweat dripped from his chin.  
Relief washed over Harry when he knew he had not called out in his sleep. Ron’s snoring assured him of that.  
Harry lay back down, his T-shirt sticking to the sweat on his back and chest. He ran his hand over his forehead. He took a deep breath as confusion crossed his face. When he found he was wondering what it all meant he scolded himself “It was just a dream.” He told himself.  
Fawkes the phoenix cawed and Harry saw the sun was rising. The weather had improved but somehow it wasn’t enough to take Harry’s mind off Bellatrix Lestrange.

A bad night’s sleep was not what Harry needed right now he was going to have Snape first class for Defence Against the Dark Arts.   
It was true Harry usually told himself some excuse sot that he could stare at the buttery blonde, Malfoy, but today Harry noticed something.  
Malfoy usually liked Snape’s lesson, no that simplified it too much. In all the years he was at Hogwarts Harry had known only one teacher that Malfoy listened to, only one Malfoy ever tried to impress and that was Snape.

Malfoy was often so attentive he leaned forward inhaling every word that passed Snape’s sneering lips. But today, today Malfoy slouched in his seat and not only did he not seem invigorated he looked like he was confounded. His eyes were unfocused and unseeing, not even the eerie contents of the jars on the walls could snare his attention.  
This unnerved Harry what could be so important to Malfoy?

“And that…… children is how an Octuberis is slain.” Finished Snape as he tapped the projector with the tip of his want.  
With an added flick of his wand Snape turned the lights back on.  
“Two rolls of parchment on the natural habitat of an Octurberis by Monday.” Commanded Snape.  
“Detention… for those who fail to present it! I hear Filch needs … help cleaning up thestral dung.”  
Everyone knew this was not an idle threat.

“Great!” Said Ron sarcastically “I have an essay for McGonagall on “The correct use of a wand in transfiguration” He told them in a mocking Scottish accent that was a good likeness to McGonigle “Three rolls for Flitwick on Controlling Charms, practically a book for Beans, practicing tea leaf reading, and now two rolls for Snape. I’ll never make time for quidditch practice.” He whined.

“Yeah, let’s just be glad Slughorn isn’t dealing out homework.” Harry pointed out.

“Really? Well I have the same plus runes and divination.” Beamed Hermione unable to hide her smugness.

“Yeah but that’s different you don’t play quidditch.“ Began Ron who was flustered, did she always have to be so perfect. 

“No, but I’ve never missed a match, or a practice for that matter.” She said her smile intact.

“Wait a minute!” Ron said suddenly his whole expression changing from anger to one of confusion. “You can’t be taking runes! It’s on the same time as potions.” Ron followed Hermione down the stairs and he spoke. 

They were on their way to the great hall for dinner.

“I think you’ll find you’re mistaken Ronald.” Hermione replied as she reached the bottom of the staircase and sauntered into the great hall.

“Just once, I’d like to know she’s got something wrong.” Growled Ron in annoyance,

“Pray it’s not your homework.” Harry jeered Ron jokingly.

“Ha ha.” Laughed Ron sarcastically.

Harry did notice that Malfoy did not appear during dinner. He also noted that this was not due to Slytherin quidditch practice as the rest of the team sat at the Slytherin table stuffing their faces.  
He was also sure that he heard Miles Bletchley complain that he would go to Snape if Malfoy missed one more quidditch practices.

“I don’t care who his father is!” stated Bletchley as he and his friends climbed the staircase.   
It started to grate on Harry, what was Malfoy using all his time for?

“Bleaching his roots?!” offered Ron when Harry made the mistake of voicing his concern.

“Call me crazy but maybe unlike you two Malfoy is actually studying?!” Hermione jeered.

Ron and Harry looked at each other, “You’re crazy.” They chorused.

It was no good, Harry lay awake in the middle of the night looking at the groves in the wood in the ceiling of his fourposter bed.  
Had Harry ever seen Malfoy so obsessed before? Maybe when he wanted to join the quidditch team.  
But Malfoy had been happy than, boastfully even.

Harry could barely keep his eyes open in double potions after lunch.  
This is all I needed, thought Harry sarcastically his head pounded from a lack of sleep.  
Slughorn coughed to bring the class to at attention. He liked attention did Slughorn.  
“Here we go,” Harry mothed to Ron.

“Good evening class. I hope I find you all well?!” Slughorn asked rhetorically.

Ron rolled his eyes in a way which only Harry could see.

“Today we well be brewing skelingtenis. Better known as skele-gro but that’s a trade brand.” Explained Slughorn, laughing as he finished speaking.

Ron opened his pristine copy of Potion Making. Harry followed suit, he opened his beaten up yet trusty book.  
Harry gathered his ingredients and magicked a flame under his cauldron.  
When Harry began to add the ingredients to the cauldron he noticed that Malfoy moved slowly as if he was in a daze. Had he too had a sleepless night?

Minutes later Malfoy was not the only one acting strangely. Hermione’s hair was all over the place, it stuck out at weird angles it put Harry in mind of Bellatrix Lestrange.  
Ron on the other hand kept talking to himself and squeaking when his potion went wrong.


	3. Signed, Sealed, Delivered

Draco, angry at his failure at obtaining the good luck potion returned to the Slytherin dormitories. There by his bed was a large create.   
At once Draco knew who it was from.  
Secretly Draco had hoped the house elfs’ didn’t have much trouble with it.   
When he opened the box Draco found a letter on top addressed to “Coco”. The sight of his mother’s familiar hand writing comforted Draco at once. He ran the letter through his hand, somehow it felt like home. All his stress and anger evaporated.  
Ignoring his own excitement, he carefully opened the envelop, making sure not to tear the envelope. He opened the letter and examined the crawly font.

“Dear Coco,  
I sent you a new coat as your old one will not keep you warm in this weather. “  
Draco lifted the hippogriff feather filled coast out of the large wooden box. It looked almost as majestic as the creature its self. The out side was a dark green dragon hide and the inside was lined with green material he did not recognise only that he new muggles ware something similar called velvet. Just by lifting out of the box Draco could tell it would easily reach his shin.   
“I also included a dozen of your favourites, Golden delicious apples. You need to keep your strength up what with this being an important year. In your school career of course.”  
Draco knew what his mother was really speaking off. Yet she could not say it in a letter as all post to Hogwarts was being read.  
“I also hear of a dangerous flu going around so I want you to be extra carful and stay safe, wrap up warm and that.  
I hope to see you during the holidays though your father is considering the idea that you stay at Hogwarts as it would be a new experience for you.   
Either way I will let you know our plans by owl when we decide.”  
Only one line remained.  
“Vale, mi dulcis Coco, amor mama”  
Narcissa often validated her letters with Latin, her usual being “Amor mama”. This more elaborate closing had caused Draco’s eyes to well up.  
It felt like a proper goodbye and Draco knew why, what he was trying to do was dangerous. Older more talented wizards had tried and failed.

Draco pulled the coat onto the bed with him, he used it to silence his weeping. With a flick of his wand he made the bed hangings close. This was not something he wanted his house mates seeing.  
* * *  
Draco woke up, it was morning. The enchanted windows which were not real (as the Slytherin dorms were three stories under sea level) they showed an orange sun rise.  
Draco slid off the bed, lying his new coat down where he had been.  
Draco rubbed his sore and cried out eyes. When had he last slept through the night he wondered. His house mates slept on. Crabb or Goyle which ever one it was, continued to snore gruffly in his sleep.  
Malfoy wanted to use the bathroom while everyone else was still in bed. He took a towel, clean shirt, and boxers out of his trunk. His grabbed his facecloth off his locker, inside was the remaining slither of his favourite soap.  
Draco walked up the spiral staircase to the common room. Draco saw something move by the fireplace.   
“Dobby?!” called Draco excitedly.  
The house elf turned “No young mas’er.” Hiccupped a female house elf who was making quite a mess of cleaning out the fireplace.  
“Sorry,” Draco said feeling disappointed as he walked out of the common room.  
He walked quietly passed Snape’s office. Draco doubted the potions master would be there but still he would rather not chance an encounter.   
Finally, Draco lowered his naked pale body into a tin bath. He ran his soap across his chest and shoulders. He lay his head back and closed his eyes.   
As the steam rose it brought the fragrant smell of honeysuckle and shea butter soap filled the air. He breath became slow and deep.  
Suddenly there was a pop. Draco sat up suddenly, sending water cascading over the sides of the bath.  
“Merlin’s beard Myrtle! You almost gave me a death-day date.” Scorned Draco.  
“I have one of those,” Smiled Myrtle apologetically as her head hovered in the hand basin.  
“Duh, you’re dead!”  
Myrtle giggled in response.  
Draco leaned back again and closed his eyes.  
He didn’t care that she sat in the hand basin with her chin in her hand watching him.  
Draco figured that being dead fifty or more years meant she wasn’t really 14 anymore. Besides he was sure she had seen plenty flouting around the drains of Hogwarts the past fifty or so years. And for some reason Draco never felt embarrassed to be in front of her.  
He didn’t really know why he wasn’t embarrassed to be naked in front of her. In fact before all this stress he liked making Myrtle blush. She turned grey in the face and it almost became 3D.  
“That looks so nice and warm,” She giggled.  
“Don’t even think about it!” warned Draco without opening his eyes.  
Myrtle giggled again, she had no intention of moving though she did peek into the bath from where she was.   
“How did you sleep?” She asked gently as if speaking to a tired toddler.  
“Well….. I guess,” He mumbled.  
“I thought so. You didn’t visit last night.”  
It wasn’t an accusation exactly but still Draco opened his eyes and looked at her.  
“I’m not complaining,” she said quickly.  
“It just gets lonely in here sometimes,” she added pretending to play with the edge of the sink.  
“Ha! Lonely. You should try being in a packed room and knowing that no body has an idea of what’s really going on. That’s lonely,” Snorted Draco with fake laughter.  
“Is that because of your secret task?” She asked gently gliding out of the hand basin and sitting on side of the bath.  
“You know I can’t talk about it,” Draco covered his face with his hands.  
Draco wasn’t ashamed he was just exhausted. The rubbed his face and looked back at Myrtle.   
Her head was down, and she was looking at the floor.  
“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to snap,” He added feeling guilty.   
She was the only one he could talk to, he didn’t want to push her away.  
“No, I understand I can see it upsets you.”  
Tears rolled down Draco’s face.  
“D, please don’t,” Myrtle whaled.  
Myrtle moved and kneeled by the bath and looked at Draco.  
“I can’t do this!” Draco cried into his hands to stifle the sound.  
“This is going to kill me!”   
Myrtle took his meaning to be figurative.  
“Please D,” begged Myrtle as dull almost transparent tears rolled down her face.  
Myrtle started to stroke Draco’s damp blonde hair. Draco’s cries turned to weeps, and then to small sobs. Something about Myrtle’s touch took Draco’s thoughts away, almost like his brain was filled with bees. It stopped him from thinking about his mission.  
After a few minutes Draco fell quiet and though he was still awake he kept his eyes closed.  
A door closed down the hall, it closed again, and voices filled the hall outside.   
Draco jumped out of the bath, his groin level with Myrtle’s face. Draco half expected her to blush, but her face had turned to anger.   
“Is that what he did?” she shrieked pointing at his chest.  
Suddenly Draco began to blush. He had forgotten that he now had pink stipes zigzagging across his milky chest.  
He tried to cover them with his arms. “It wasn’t Harry’s fault I-“  
“Harry Potter gets way with everything!” Her voice rebounded off the walls.  
“Shh!” warned Draco looking towards the door.  
Myrtle stood up angrily.  
“Not you too!” she demanded.  
“If I could stop myself, I would. If Harry…. If he’d have killed me I wouldn’t have to do what I’m expected.”  
“Just don’t do it. Chose not to,” She begged.  
“I don’t have a choice! Id only be choosing how I’d die!” he was trying to explain it to her. Could she not work it out.  
“When you said that was real,” she pointed to his left arm, “You weren’t joking?!”  
Draco moved his arm from his chest, the wet dark mark shone.  
Draco looked up at Myrtle.  
“He killed me you know?” a tier ran down her face.  
“I’ve told you I hate him. But he could kill my whole family! Tell me what to do then? What would you do?” He begged.  
Myrtle took a step back.   
“I would save them,” Myrtle looked away.  
Draco could tell she was ashamed of her answer.  
The voices got closer.  
“Please Myrt you can’t tell anyone!”  
“I won’t” she promised as she disappeared back down the sink.  
Draco had just finished tying his towel around his waist when his fellow Slytherins walked through the door.  
“Alright D?” asked Blaise.  
“Yeah mate, top notch,” Draco collected his things and ignoring the stares of some of the other students who found the scars, dark mark or both shocking.  
When Draco first got his mark, he walked around the Slytherin dungeons with his sleeve rolled up. Waring it like a badge of honour. That has certainly changed.  
Back in the dorm Draco used this opportunity of the empty room to use the mirror by his bed. He had been so focused on his mission that he had not reflected on the incident with Harry. Draco looked in the mirror as he ran a finger over each of the scars in turn. They were still desensitised, though he could tell he was touching the scar it felt odd, like very faint pins and needles. He wasn’t angry with harry, yes the incident had physically hurt but that was nothing to the emotional pain Draco was hiding even from himself.   
The only thing Draco truly hated about it was the fact that Harry had seen him cry. He closed his eyes and for the millionth time he wished that Snape had kept his hooked nose out and that Harry had succeeded.   
If Draco had died, then he couldn’t do the mission and he could be a ghost and hang out with Myrtle and the bloody baron.   
Draco was so deep in his own thoughts that he didn’t hear the door.  
“Dude we all know hansom you are so can you put some clothes on?!” Jeered Blaise laughing.  
“Sorry B you aren’t my type,” joked Draco.  
Blaise blushed but laughed it off.


End file.
